My Angel
by The Prophet Lemonade
Summary: To think my life, or perhaps one should call it death, started out with that fateful day when I was sixteen, when I decided to climb a tree. Events like that can be quite ironic. - Esme's life from when she met Carlisle to the day she was changed by him.


**Author's Note: This is a special fic for a special person, aka my wife. 8D (To all fanfiction members, no she's not really my wife. It's an inside joke.) I've wanted to write this story for a long while and this is the perfect opportunity to write it up. I hope she enjoys it and has a great Christmas! (This is a Christmas present, by the way.)**

**Disclaimer: Twilight, Carlisle, Esme and Edward, plus the rest of the characters, are products of the great Stephanie Meyer. This back story is also briefly explained by her in the novels; I am just fleshing it out. **

**Title: My Angel**

**--**

To think my life, or perhaps one should call it death, started out with that fateful day when I was sixteen, when I decided to climb a tree. Events like that can be quite ironic.

--

"Esme Anne Platt!" my mother called from our small, yellow kitchen. "Just where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going outside, mother! It's a beautiful day outside and I want to go for a walk."

I heard my mother's faint chuckle echo down the hallway and I took this as a sign of allowance, rushing quickly to and out of the front door of my white washed Columbus house. The sun was already high in the cloudless, blue sky and it beat down on my bare neck, causing me to swelter under the heat.

However, my suffering was short lived, as after a five minute walk, a came across the huge shadow of an emerald, green oak tree. I was relieved as soon as I stepped under its eaves; coolness washing over me like a wave on the beach.

I guess I always had a liking for heights, as I soon found myself climbing up into the large canopy, easily making my way up through the branches. The leaves twitched in the slight breeze that had picked up, typical of an Ohio afternoon, and after a few moments more, my head poked out through the bows. The wind was stronger up there, hitting me square in the face, refreshing me.

It was only then did I hear a disturbing crack underneath my feet and the branch I was perched on gave way, sending me tumbling down to the ground, some few meters below me. I must have lost consciousness upon impact, as the last thing I remembered was the searing pain that struck my leg.

--

Stirring, I felt cold hands prodding my leg and a blinked my eyes open, reacting slightly to the bright sunlight glaring down in my face. A shadow was the cast across my head; it was a human, or at least person's shadow.

"Can you hear me, love?"

The sound would have made me jump out of my skin if it weren't for my immobile state. His voice was like a soft, melodic lullaby in my ear; that of what only could have been an angel.

"What is your name, darling?"

"…Esme…" I finally managed out. "Esme Platt…"

"Okay, Esme dear, you've had a nasty fall. Unfortunately, I think you're leg is broken in a few places. Do you think you can prop yourself up on your elbows for me?"

I did as the angel said, my vision finally becoming clear, allowing me to look upon his face. It took my breath away.

He features were sculpted to pure perfection, whilst his golden hair danced gracefully in the breeze. I then came to his eyes; there were honestly no words to describe them at the time. The swirls of gold and honey were truly hypnotizing and I found myself not being able to look away. The face of this angel matched the voice, if not over exceeded it.

"Esme," he spoke again, bringing me back to my senses, if only for a minute. "I'm a doctor. Is it okay if I pick you up? I can carry you back to the hospital from here."

I could only nod as he scooped me up into his strong arms, his strange scent encasing me. I breathed it in heavily, relishing in the fragrance. There was one thing I noticed, however, about this angel, and that was how hard and cold his skin was. Where his shirt sleeves were rolled up, I could easily see the pallid flesh, set like stone on his limbs. I longed to touch it properly with my own hands, to see if it where real, but I dared not. I then turned my thoughts to something else.

"…May I ask the name of my saviour?" I breathed, barely a whisper. Yet, he heard it, and chuckled lightly; a sweet, tuneful laugh that sent pleasant shivers down my spine.

"My name is Carlisle. Carlisle Cullen."

The angel had a name. It was a lovely name too; a suitable one for such a creature. I had always liked the name Carlisle. It had a special place in my heart; from a very young age, I had always longed to call my first born boy Carlisle. There was little need any more. The angel had taken that name; but not that I minded. He had found me and rescued me. He was _my_ angel now.

--

Upon hearing the sound of a door creaking, I awoke from my fake slumber, my favourite scent reaching my nose before I could even see my visitor. A large grin spread across my lips.

"How are you today, Esme?" my angel asked, scrutinizing my condition with his eyes, taking particular notice of the bulky cast that covered my fractured leg.

"I feel much better," I replied sweetly, still not able to take my eyes from him. It had been the same since I had arrived at the hospital, earlier in the week. I'm sure it must have been uncomfortable for him to have me staring at him every time he visited, but I could not stop myself at marvelling at his extraordinary beauty.

"That's good," he smiled back, his perfect, pearl white teeth sparkling in the artificial light of the ward. "I'm glad you're making a good recovery."

I nodded, unable to move my lips to speak. I studied him intently as he made his rounds; checking my leg and foot, my blood pressure, and other such necessities. I didn't notice he had stopped moving and was looking at me until he called my name.

"Esme?"

I snapped out of my reverie at the sound of my name on his tongue, blushing a deep pink when I realized I had been caught.

"I-I'm sorry," I stammered, embarrassed. "It's just… you're so beautiful… and I know it's wrong to call a man beautiful, but-! I mean, you're very handsome, Doctor Cullen, and I-! I'm so sorry!"

He obviously found my frustration amusing and a light chuckle escaped him, as he moved his ice cold hand to my head, ruffling up my hair slightly. With his other hand, he pulled out a small, white envelope, and handed it to me.

"What's this?" I asked blankly, noticing my own name scrawled on the front in his perfect handwriting. I tore the paper seal open and withdrew a piece of plain notepaper, neatly folded in half. As I read the contents, I felt my heart leap.

"W-what? You can't be serious, Doctor Cullen! Chicago is so far away-!"

My angel smiled down at me again, but it was a sad smile, one that recognized separation and loss. I felt his hand leave its rest on top of my head and I felt something sink inside me as I yearned for its cold but soothing presence once again.

"I thought you would want to know," Carlisle said, confirming what he had written on the letter. "I've been offered a place at an inter-city medical clinic up there. I don't like staying around in one place for too long."

"Why is that?" I questioned, innocently enough as I gazed up into the deep gold pools that were his eyes. There was something there that I shouldn't have seen; an ancient sadness that he was keeping to himself, allowing no one else to see. I immediately looked down, the situation becoming awkward.

"…Have a good recovery, Esme, love," he spoke, turning to the small door that allowed entrance and exit to my ward. "It was nice meeting you."

As I watched my angel leave me, a part of me left with him. The knowledge that I would never see him again hit me like a great weight, drowning me in the wave that had now swept over me.

"Goodbye…" I choked out, feeling my throat tighten and water begin to well in my eyes. I did not let the tears flow though; it was improper for a lady to fall to pieces over a man she had barely known five minutes.

That was one of the reasons I hated etiquette.

--

"So? Is there another man!?"

The voice of my fiancé, Charles, boomed out through the empty house, echoing off the oak-panelled walls. I stared down at my shoes, stepping back a few paces. I knew of his temper and I had bruises to prove it.

"Esme! Is there someone else or not!?"

The beautiful face of my golden haired angel came to mind, but I quickly tried to clear my head of the image; Carlisle was long gone, and had been for almost ten years. There was no point in hoping he would come back for me anymore. I shook my head stiffly, still without meeting the gaze of Charles.

"There's no-one. I love you, Charles. You should know that by now. We are due to be married within the month, remember?"

I could see him physically relax in his stance and it relieved me; perhaps I would escape without a beating this time.

"You're a silly girl, Esme," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefingers. "Whoever you're thinking of needs to be forgotten. You _are_ marrying me, like you said."

As I watched the last remnants of my angel's face disappear from my mind, Charles stepped up to me, grasping my wrist tightly in his much larger hand. His fingers pinched harder on my skin, turning it red.

"Please," I whimpered, "You're hurting me."

"Say you've forgotten. Say it now."

"I've forgotten! I've forgotten!" The words burned to the very edges of my soul, tearing at my heart, trying to break it more than it already was. Death plagued my insides, hearting me more than Charles was.

"Good," he said simply, releasing my wrist like nothing had happened. I quickly tucked it into my pinafore pocket, rubbing the sore with my other hand. My face was red and flustered, and tears began to stream down my face, though I kept a stern glare fixed on my fiancé.

"I'll see you at supper," he hollowed, strolling down the corridor, boots clanking on the wood, completely ignoring what had just happened. It made me wonder why I had even gone along with this marriage in the beginning. My heart belonged to one person, and one person only; Charles never stood a chance. Attempting to put on a brave face, I wiped my damp eyes with my sleeve and headed off in the opposite direction, hoping for something to take my mind off of things.

--

My hair drooped limply over my face; my forehead burning up as I leant feebly over the large, pearl basin of my bathroom. Vomit surged up my throat again and into the sink, and I quivered.

I knew what the symptoms meant and it scared me very much so. I was pregnant. Of course, it was Charles'; we had been married for about four weeks already. Almost blindly, I stumbled across to my bedside phone, reaching for the receiver. My fingers were numb as I dialled the number for the local surgery.

Charles would not be back from work for another few hours; I knew I wouldn't be able to tell him. I closed my eyes, as I waited for the ringing phone to be picked up at the other end, and a strange vision came to mind: myself, as a mother, holding a small, golden haired bundle. Looking down into the infant's eyes, I gasped. It was no surprise that two orbs of honey gold stared back up at me, set into the beautifully carved, miniature version of my angel's face. This baby was his child? It was, of course, no more than a dream.

A voice at the other end of the line brought me out of my trance. As I quickly explained my symptoms to the doctor, I could not free myself of the image of those gorgeous, hypnotizing honey eyes of my baby. My dream baby, that was.

I sighed deeply as the doctor finished talking.

"It sounds like you're pregnant, Mrs Evenson. Would you like to book an appointment to make sure?"

"No, it's alright," I mumbled, placing the phone down, not even bothering to say goodbye. It was the least of my worries, of course.

--

The rain poured down and through my door as I heaved it open, creaking loudly. Taking one looked back at the house, I felt no regrets. Running away was the best thing I could do; for both myself and my unborn child. I would be long gone y the time Charles awoke in the morning; that thought gave me a small glimmer of hope.

I stepped out onto the down pour, pulling my coat tighter around my body, which was feebly clad in a thin, red dress, trying to keep out the cold and the wet.

"Good riddance," I murmured under my breath, turning and running down the winding path that led away from my home. I was never to return there.

--

I called my son Matthew. It was my second favourite boy's name, behind the name of my angel. However, he had that name, so I settled for second choice. He was born in Wisconsin, the only place where I had found refuge.

He had beautiful locks of chocolate hair, which fell in small ringlets, and crystal blue eyes. He was a perfect cross between Charles and I.

Matthew was a sickly baby. From the moment he was born, I knew something was wrong. My suspicions were only confirmed when my Matthew died three days later.

--

Wind whistled past my legs and head, blowing my loose hair about my face; the hazel strands wiping my flushed cheeks. I clutched the stiff body of my son to my chest and took a few steps forward, until my toes curled over the edge of the cliff where I was stood.

Dense fog rolled in over the rocks behind me, shrouding me in its protective blanket. It made no difference, however; my path was decided, my fate set. What reasons had I to live anymore? My son was dead, my family gone, my husband forgotten… And my angel. He was lost forever now. Carlisle would be well into his thirties, living a perfect life in Chicago, or God knows where, and he would have forgotten me completely. That was the sensible thing, I decided.

The ground crumbled under my feet; a few clumps of soil falling to ground below, smashing into thousands of pieces. I was soon to go that way too.

Raising one arm above my head, I leapt off the edge, the cold air rushing past me and blinding speed. My weightlessness lasted only a moment though, and the last thing I remembered seeing in my mind as I hit the rocks below was my angels face. Then came the searing pain.

--

"What on earth happened to her? She looks like she jumped off a cliff or something."

I vaguely heard the voice of a young boy in my head; he sounded annoyed and bored. I tried to open my eyes, but failed, the same thing happening when I tried to move my limbs. They felt heavy, like lead, and numb. Another voice then reached my ears.

"She has a name, Edward," the voice said. "It's Esme."

Shock flooded me when the second voice spoke my name. I recognized it. Of course I recognized it. I knew who was speaking. My angel. It was truly him.

"What, some friend of yours?" the boy, Edward, asked again. "She's as good as dead, Carlisle." My quiet heart skipped a beat as his name was spoken and I tried even harder to open my eyes. There was suddenly quiet to my ears; they had noticed my attempt to wake up.

"She's conscious again," Edward murmured. "And she recognizes your voice. That is surprising."

I was confused; was I thinking out loud? How could the boy have heard my thoughts otherwise?

I heard a melodic laugh, but it was not Carlisle's. I only assumed it belonged to Edward.

"What are you laughing about, Edward?"

"She can hear me too. She is wondering if she is speaking out loud."

Carlisle made a small 'tsk' at his companion. I begged him to speak again; I knew the Edward boy would be able to hear me, at least. I longed to hear my name on his tongue again; the sound I had been craving for almost ten years.

"She wants you to talk to her," Edward said, answering me again. "She wants you to say her name."

There was a sharp intake of breath, which I assumed came from my angel.

"Esme, love… oh Esme…"

In my mind, I was shouting his name, only hoping he would hear it. Faithfully, Edward relayed my message to him.

"She's saying your name. She has missed you a lot."

"Esme…" Carlisle sighed, "I didn't realize… was it me who drove you to this?"

I heard scuffling and the sound of someone getting to their feet. I felt light pressure on my shoulder; my first proper feeling since waking up, and I knew it was his hand; it still felt the same.

"Carlisle…" Edward's voice said, sounding uneasy and worried. "What are you doing?"

"She is dying Edward," Carlisle replied. "I can't let her die. Like I couldn't let you die; it's the same principle."

"You know how risky it is. Do you want to put her through all that pain? Really?"

"It's the only thing I can do for her." Carlisle's voice sounded sad; it frustrated me. I wanted to know what they were talking about.

"She wants you to explain," Edward muttered, obvious still annoyed that Carlisle had pushed him aside. "She doesn't like being left out of the loop."

The next feeling I felt was a very strange sensation. To me, it felt like a pair of lips was being pressed to my throat, and I knew there was only one person in the room, who I knew of, who would be doing that. My angel. Passion and love gushed through my veins, and I only hoped Edward would not tell what I was thinking. Though I wished to be awake, to kiss him back, my eyes would not open and my body would not respond. However, the first emotion was suddenly over taken by another when he spoke again.

"I'm so sorry Esme… I'm so sorry."

A burning sensation pierced my shoulder and I screamed; I knew instantly that this was not in my head anymore. It rapidly spread down my arm and into my chest, across my body and down to the very tips of my toes.

It was worse than anything I had ever felt before. Worse than the time I had broken my leg. Worse than when Carlisle had left me. Worse than all the times Charles had hit me and worse than when I lost Matthew. It was even worse than when I had jumped from the cliff. It was sheer agony.

My back arched up from the cold surface where I was lying, which I could now feel, and I screamed again, the fire seeping up into my throat, torching it to ashes. I found my hands and feet bound and I struggled more; trying, begging to find a way to escape the fire.

All the while I heard words in my ears. Over and over; they were always the same words.

"I'm sorry Esme… I'm so sorry." My angel spoke them repeatedly, barely even breathing. Why was he apologizing? What had he done that was so wrong? But more importantly, what was I becoming?

--

I don't know how long I writhed in the pain of the fire; it seemed like years. My throat grew dry and hoarse from my screaming, but I still struggled, and kicked, harder and harder with every passing moment. Eventually, even the voice of my angel faded out, and I was left to the darkness of my mind, but always with the ever present flames. They would not fade out, no matter how hard I tried.

--

"It's almost completed."

It was the first voice I had heard in what seemed forever, but it was not the one I was searching for. I almost had myself under control; tensing myself so much that I could not react to the burning.

"How long has she been quiet for?" My angels' voice was like music to my ears. Though I understood little of what the two men spoke of, I did not care, only interested in Carlisle.

"It has been ten hours since she stopped screaming. Judging by what happened to me, I should say she'll be reaching the finally stage in a few minutes."

I was confused by what Edward said; what did he mean by what happened to him? Had he gone through the same torture? I could feel the fire dying down, and I wondered if this was what he meant by the final stage.

A hard grip found its way to my fisted hand; a hand I recognized easily, even if it was only by touch. I released my own and grasped my angel's fingers tightly, not wanting to ever let go.

"She thinks she's got through the pain," Edward spoke solemnly, as if I had missed something. "She doesn't know."

"…Esme… Love… Can you hear me still?" Carlisle whispered, his voice surprisingly shaky. "It's almost over, I promise. In a minute, the pain is going to get worse; worse than it has been before. I'm so sorry I had to put you through this…"

As he stopped talking, the blaze roared into action again, smothering my entire body in its inferno. I cried out in pain again, gripping my angel's hand only tighter. My heartbeat soared into over drive; it felt like it was about to burst out my chest.

It was worse than dying. It was worse than the fiery pits of hell. There were not even words to describe the torture.

All of a sudden, as if someone had flicked a switched, by heart skidded to a halt, making me gasp for breath. In one huge fireball, the burning exploded too, vanishing completely from me body. Darkness held by tightly still, and I slipped, once again, into unconsciousness.

--

"When will she wake up?"

"She can hear us now, Carlisle. She will open her eyes soon. Be sure to secure her arms. I will take her legs."

My eyelids fluttered open and I found myself staring up at a grey, stone ceiling. For a moment, I remained completely still, in shock after the previous events. I was dead, surely?

I listened for my heart beat, but it was not there, only confirming my thoughts. I was definitely dead.

"Esme, love, it's me, Carlisle. Are you alright? How do you feel?"

The voice caused me to snap up straight, into a sitting position. I was obstructed, however, by Carlisle on my arms and a copper haired boy on my legs. I presumed him to be Edward, but I had no need of him at this point as a twisted around to look for my angel.

My eyes met his golden ones instantly and for the first time in ten years, I felt complete. There was only one thing that I noticed now, and it astonished me. He looked exactly the same as when he had fixed my leg. His hair was still parted in the same way, his face had not aged and his eyes were still as striking as ever.

"Esme…" he mouthed silently, still keeping a firm grip on my wrists. "I'm… so sorry."

"W-what for?" I replied back, but jumped at my own voice; or, what came from my mouth. It was a sound I did not recognize. It was beautiful yet completely alien to me. I hastily looked between Carlisle and Edward, searching for some answers.

My gaze stopped on Edward then, and I took in his appearance too as he secured my ankles and legs. He had unusually coloured bronze haired and topaz gold eyes, similar to Carlisle's, yet with a slightly wilder look about them. He, too, like my angel, was beautiful beyond belief. I turned back to Carlisle, by upper body moving at a speed that seemed inhuman.

"What is going on, Carlisle?"

"I'm so sorry… it was the only way."

"What do you mean?" I asked again. "What are you talking about?" I'm sure the desperation and confusion must have sounded in my voice as Carlisle's expression changed; it became sadder. I didn't like it.

"Esme," Edward spoke, for once sounding interested. From his pocket, he produced a carved oak mirror and handed it to me. I looked down at my reflection, horror crossing my face as something I did not recognize stared back up. A breath-stopping young woman, with cascading locks of hazel hair that framed her heart shaped face. Her skin was perfect, without a flaw, and her eyes were a shocking shade of crimson. My hands went numb and I dropped the mirror to the floor, it shattering into thousands of tiny glass crystals. I started to panic. My voice had changed; my face had changed; what else was different with me?

I felt soft hands on my shoulders again, but it only scared me more. They did not have the feeling that I knew; they were warm and they were soft, not like the hands of my angel. I leapt to my feet, off the stone slab where I had been lying, throwing both Carlisle and Edward off my limbs. This strength scared me and I backed up into the corner of the tiny chamber, burying my face in my hands.

I tried to cry, but no tears would come, leaving me only whimpering.

"She's scared, Carlisle," Edward said, reading my thoughts again. "She doesn't know what is going on and it's scaring her a lot. You should explain."

I heard footsteps walk across the room and I peeped out of my fingers to gaze up into the stern face of my angel.

"W-what's happened to me?" I whispered, pulling my knees into my chest tighter.

"Esme…" he spoke my name with strange emotion. "Love… do you believe in vampires?"

My head snapped up out of my palms and I gasped. My angel was trying to tell me that I was a vampire. Was that truly what I had become?

--

Perfectly still, I perched on a large, flat rock, over looking a bubbling stream. I dipped my toes into the water, surprised that I could not feel the cold that it usually would have given me, if I were still human. I sensed pounding feet slow to a stop near by and I craned my neck back to see my visitor.

"How are you feeling?" Carlisle spoke softly, coming to sit next to me, taking my hand in his, and stroking the skin with his thumb.

"Thirsty," I joked, smiling lightly. A strange sensation had developed at the back of my throat and I longed for something to sooth it.

"That's natural," Carlisle said. "You'll learn to control in due time."

"I see," I murmured, leaning forward to peer over into the water below me. It still surprised me to see such a magnificent person looking back at me, but I was slowly coming to terms with my new life. My gaze fixed on the image of my crimson eyes; they were terrifying now that I looked closer; the shocking red wild with what could only be described as blood lust.

"What are you looking at, love?"

"My eyes," I replied. "Don't they scare you? They are horrifying."

His finger caught my chin and titled my face up to look at him.

"Your eyes would never scare me."

If blood still flowed in my veins, I would have blushed. I silently thanked that Carlisle could not tell anymore.

"Your eyes are very beautiful," I remarked, noticing that he still hadn't let go of my chin. "I always thought so."

He shot me a warm smile and dropped his hand into his lap. I kicked my feet in the water as we sat in silence, staring out over the misty landscapes.

Carlisle and Edward had explained everything to me earlier. After jumping off the cliff, I had been found and taken to the morgue, even though I wasn't quite dead. Carlisle had sensed my familiar heart beat and found me, deciding to turn me into a vampire like himself and Edward; the only way to secure my life. Or death, as it really was. Breath did not inflate my lungs and no blood flowed through my body anymore. My heart was a stone cold; a crystal made of ice.

Instinctively, I raised my hand and placed it over where my heart used to beat, sighing quietly to myself. Carlisle noticed this and turned his torso to face me.

"Do you hate me for changing you?"

I shock my head sadly, smiling gently.

"No. Not at all. I was just… thinking. You know well enough that I could never hate you."

His hand found its way to mine and I smiled. He gripped my fingers loosely and moved our hands over to his own chest.

"My heart does not beat either," he murmured, though I heard it perfectly. "Edward, you and I; we are all the same."

"I know," I whispered back, gazing longingly into his eyes. He then gestured to my heart.

"Your heart… it is not the only one that belongs to you anymore."

He leant forwards, resting his forehead on mine, keeping our hands interlocked as he pressed them to his lips.

"Carlisle…"

His free hand twirled a lock of my hair and stroked the side of my face, only stopping when he came to my lips.

"Ssh, my little Esme," my angel hummed, "My silly, innocent, _beautiful_ little Esme." His hand cupped my cheek and he bridged the final gap between us, pressing his soft lips against mine.

--

"Are you finished?"

Edward's voice rung into my ears and I pulled back from Carlisle, looking up at the dark sky. Time had passed so quickly; it amazed me.

"I thought it best not to disturb you, but this is just getting ridiculous now," Edward said again, rolling his eyes as he came into my view from out of the woods.

Carlisle's tuneful laugh resonated in my head and he stood up from the rock, bringing me up with him, our fingers still laced together.

"Are you ready, Mrs Cullen?" Carlisle murmured in my ear, squeezing my hand only tighter. He placed a tiny kiss on the bite mark on my shoulder and led me forward towards Edward. Forward towards my new life.

My new life with my angel.


End file.
